Treasures in the Dark
by Sunhawk
Summary: Merry and Pippin find something unexpected in the cellars of Brandy Hall. This story is entirely the fault of me getting to run around in a musty old cellar :)


A/N: Written for a ringprov challenge, that grew rather unwieldy. Look for a sequel, ehm, eventually. I do not own these characters, and make no profit from this story.  
  
Treasures in the Dark  
  
"Merry, how much trouble are we going to get into for this?" Merry turned to see huge green eyes staring up at him, the tiny Took shifting uncertainly (or perhaps impatiently) from foot to foot.  
  
"None at all, Pippin. Mum and Da will enjoy this, and laugh and laugh." Merry reassured his young cousin gaily, while he worked at spooning out the center of the blueberry cobbler that was awaiting the the Brandybuck family tea. The cracked, rough crust had already been carefully removed, and awaited replacement.  
  
"No they won't; we'll have to hide again. They didn't laugh when we hid the chickens under the dish-covers." Pippin's voice held the impatient logic of all young children, and Merry frowned slightly; flat-out lying obviously wouldn't work with his parter-in-crime anymore.  
  
"Well, then we'll hide. Why do you ask Pip, you want to skip out on me?" He turned to the young Took beside him who was in charge of the grass that would be stuffed into place, to hold the crust up. They'd been wreaking havoc together since Pippin had come to visit a week ago, and this was the first time Merry could *ever* remember his cousin questioning the wisdom of their pranks. His heart panged surprisingly painfully as he wondered for a moment if Pippin was growing away from such mischief.  
  
Pippin, however, quickly shot that idea down. "No! I just wanted to know what to expect." They shared a grin, and then Pippin poked him. "Hurry up! I want to get away well before we'll be caught. Your mum and da are having Aunt Lilac for tea, so we'll have to hide deep in the cellars.  
  
Merry finished quickly, and Pippin stuffed the cobbler with the fresh grass, and the crust was seamlessly replaced. Their mission completed, Merry and the bowl of sweet, stewed blueberries and Pippin with two spoons and a few candles for light set off for the nearest cellar door at a run. They didn't go far; they only needed to hide out long enough to eat their treat, Pippin stifling giggles, and squirming away when Merry tried to clean the sticky blueberry syrup that had dyed the area around his mouth purple. Licking the last few smears from the bowl, the two quietly returned to the kitchen, washing the bowl and utensils (and their faces, once Merry practically sat on Pippin) so as not to invite suspicion before their plan was executed.  
  
By then, it was nearly teatime, and Merry had decided that they would have the best vantage point from below the window not directly looking into the parlor, but near enough that they could hear the shrieks of the victims of their prank. Now even Merry was stifling snickers, and Pippin had buried his head in Merry's shoulder, shaking with his latest bout of silent laughter. Unfortunately for them, Merry's mother was no fool. Not after 17 years of raising Merry, and 9 years of nearly raising Pippin as well. She had gone into the kitchen just before tea was to be served, secretly a little grateful for the few moments away from Cousin Lilac who, she had often said, could talk the tail off of a dragon. Esmeralda was planning on scooping out the servings of the cobbler in the kitchen, so she could tell if the lads had been up to something *away* from the company.  
  
The lads, of course, had been up to something. The lads, luckily, were just far enough from the kitchen door to hear Esmeralda's very, very practiced lungs roaring their names, but not so far that they couldn't make a run for a nearby door, one that conveniently led to the cellar. He was really getting better at planning these things, Merry mused, slowing only slightly to keep pace with Pippin. They had raced well into the parts of the cellar they knew, when Pippin suddenly lit a candle and darted onto a side corridor, one that led into the deepest cellars. Merry followed his fearless cousin, mouth dropping open at his surroundings. The further in they went, the more unfamiliar their surroundings became; at one dark passage Merry had to duck down a bit to avoid the low ceiling. The walls and floors were the same hardpacked dirt, reinforced with stone and still-sound wood (much to Merry's relief), but it was much damper in here, and there were ancient, dried roots poking through the walls, probably from before the Hall covered these cellars--if they even were still under the Hall. Reassured that Pippin was not leading them to their deaths, Merry took in their surroundings. The hall had widened to become a series of rough rooms, many of which held intriguing side-rooms that the single candle Pippin held could not illuminate. The smell of dirt and mold permeated the air, and Merry paused to wonder when last anyone had ever been this far into the the cellars.  
  
Following some signal that was lost on Merry, Pippin turned unerringly into a side room, and Merry of course followed. They found themselves in a room not much longer on either side than Merry was tall, but dry and oddly cozy just the same. There was an ancient trunk, covered in dirt and dust in one corner, as well as a small desk and rickety-looking chair, but as those were the only furniture, there was just enough room for both Merry and Pippin to sit down facing each other, Pippin still holding the candle between them.  
  
"This is incredible, Pip! How'd you know where to go? I didn't think you'd been this far in..." Merry trailed off looking around at the tiny room, and at what appeared to be a similar one across the larger room they'd come through.  
  
Pippin was still panting a little from the long run to safety (at least until they were searched out or it was time for supper). He'd decided that he would rather get into trouble with his aunt than miss a meal, and thus hadn't led them as far as he would've liked. Still, he'd been waiting for this chance to explore for *years*! Or, at least, since Bilbo had told him about the very oldest cellars in Brandybuck Hall, where no one had been for years and years and years. Pippin explained all this to Merry, breathlessly, in the matter of a few seconds, his eyes glowing at the excitement that they could finally explore!  
  
"There could be treasure here, Merry! We could find a whole chest of gold or--or what if someone died down here! Like in that story you told me last night, about how the hobbit-lass got locked in a trunk when she was playing hide-and-seek on her wedding day, and no one found her for years and years and years, and then they found her skeleton, still in the dress. That story had to come from somewhere, Merry!" Pippin's eyes had grown larger and larger, and Merry couldn't help but laugh when he brought up the old ghost story.  
  
"I don't think we'll find any bodies, Pip, and I doubt we'll find much treasure beyond some very old wine, perhaps. But," he continued when he saw Pippin's face drop, "we should explore anyway. Let's start with the trunk over there." Pippin's grin (missing two teeth, which Merry secretly found adorable on his baby cousin) returned, and he crawled over to the old trunk in the corner. It was huge, for a trunk, nearly as large as the little Took, and when Merry cleared some of the dirt away from what he guessed was the clasp, he saw it was very finely made. The wood was still smooth, with a rich grain he could see by the light of the candle Pippin kept trying to pass off to him.  
  
"Pippin, keep hold of that, I'll open it. Oh, stop pouting, I'm older and that's why I get to decide." Pippin was not particularly moved by this bit of logic, until Merry told him he could lean over the trunk and would see inside the same time Merry did.  
  
The clasp was unlocked, and opened easily, and the hinges were almost soundless as they too lifted. Pippin gasped as the lid lifted, clearly expecting to see a skeleton lying among gold and jewels, but flopped back on the floor, groaning as only a disappointed lad can, when the trunk revealed only a quilt and some books.  
  
"That's boring! Stupid trunk--come on Merry, let's go see what we can find in the other rooms!" Pippin made to stand up and wander off, but Merry yanked him back down.  
  
"It is *not* boring, Pippin! Now stay here, and let's see what else is in here, and I want to see what's in these books."  
  
Pippin sat down with a pout, but held the candle so Merry could see in the trunk, and begin removing its contents. "Then you can take an extra candle, and stay here and be boring, and I'll go explore."  
  
Merry turned quickly. "No, you will *not*! We could lose track of each other too easily in this rabbit-warren, and I can't lose you Pip." His voice lowered, giving a hint of the gentlehobbit that was to come. "I just can't, and I don't want you to lose me." He turned back to the trunk as quickly as he'd faced Pippin, pulling out the big quilt. It had begun to go to pieces in his hands, but it was dry and still smelled clean, so Merry set it aside carefully, not wanting to damage it. There were three more quilts underneath it, one a brand-new looking baby quilt, and Merry wondered why it had been laid away here, instead of being used.  
  
Pippin was quiet for awhile, but moved closer to Merry, brushing his cousin's arm with his own, and holding up the candle to illuminate the books. The first one Merry lifted out was bound in rough red leather, with no title on the front, or the spine. He opened it carefully, mindful of how delicate the quilts had been, and squinted at the the first page. Pippin's curiosity had been piqued by then, and he wriggled closer, bringing the candle dangerously close to the book until Merry absentmindedly pushed it away. He gasped, a little, when he had finally gotten through the first few lines. His eyes sparkling, Merry looked over at Pippin.  
  
"This is Madoc Proudneck's diary! Pippin! This is incredible--he lived here when Brandy Hall was just like any old hobbit-hole; old Gormadoc was his father. Oh, Pippin, you remember this tale," Merry continued, when his cousin only looked confused. "Madoc is my great-great-great-grandfather, and *his* grandson married Mirabella Took, so you're related to him too. The only thing the family trees say about him is he married Adaldrida Bolger, and, well, his nickname was "Proudneck", which I suppose tells us a good deal about him, or at least what those around him thought of him. I wonder if this is his study," Merry mused as he looked around them.  
  
Pippin, though, had already gone over to investigate the desk, opening the first drawer carefully. "It's just some old pens, but nice ones! Real fountain pens, Merry, and some old paper." His light having moved, Merry went over, intending to relieve Pippin of one of his candles so he could continue trying to puzzle out the journal, but he too became caught up in the search through the drawers. They revealed a few treasures: a wooden cup-and-ball game, and a delicately carved wooden butterfly. A tiny cap, made of fine white cotton, made Merry start, remembering the baby quilt, but he placed it aside, and rejoined Pippin in going through the last of the drawers.  
  
When those had been exhausted, without revealing anything other than a dusty bottle of some clear liquid Merry had forbidden Pippin to smell, they returned to the journal. Responding to Pippin's entreaties, Merry read aloud from it. His cadence was halting in the flickering candlelight, but Pippin was snugged into his side just as at bedtime, and was just as attentive, sometimes forgetting to hold the candle (their third one, now) up until Merry reminded him.  
  
"...the plague sweeps Buckland still. I can hear the wails of the women from here, even here they penetrate my hiding spot. I have built too many coffins, today, too many tiny coffins for the babes.  
  
"I planed little Hanna's until my hands bled, and then laid her in the earth. I cannot be with Adaldrida right now, though she does not weep and wail. I would prefer it if she would, but she is silent and her face is as of one waiting patiently for death to take them. If she should die, I would fain join her, and not be left alone to face a people dying, to face more tiny coffins, to face this farce of a life."  
  
Merry had been reading the last few lines slowly, but stopped when the full meaning of them hit him, and looked up at Pippin in shock.  
  
"Adaldrida is his wife, Pip! His daughter must have died...and he had to build the coffin, and bury her himself." Merry's hands were shaking, and he suddenly didn't want to read anymore. Neither did Pippin.  
  
"Please, stop," he whispered, moving closer to Merry, who put an arm around him, needing life and light and joy and everything that Pippin was, in this room that had seen such sorrow.  
  
It was only moments later that Merry heard Frodo's voice calling for them. Sparing only a quick thought to wonder when his cousin had arrived, Merry headed for the door at a dead run, Pippin at his heels. He yelled for his cousin, Pippin's piping voice echoing him, and Frodo came into view, holding a strong lantern. Hardly thinking, Merry ran for him, and threw himself into Frodo's arms, seeking comfort as he had since he was a lad. Frodo hugged him back automatically, and reached out an arm to gather Pippin into his embrace as well.  
  
"What's wrong, lads? Surely you know Esme isn't that angry with you; she sent me down here to find you as a matter of fact. Whatever you did, it doesn't deserve missing supper." Merry drew back, but Pippin stayed in Frodo's embrace. "It's not quite that, Frodo. Just, well, just come see." Merry led them back to Madoc's room. He explained how they'd found it, and what they'd found.  
  
"And Frodo, it's his whole life! I checked, and it dates from just before he became Master of Buckland, and the last entry is the year he died. But early on, there was a plague that took many in the household, including Madoc's daughter. I think she was very young, I found a little quilt that looks like it's never been used.  
  
Frodo listened solemnly, nodding when Merry mentioned the plague. "Yes, there was an illness that decimated Buckland many years ago. It shows up every few years, still, but has never been as deadly. Oh, Merry! You and Pippin have found such a treasure, don't mourn overmuch for those long buried."  
  
Merry nodded, still frowning. "I'm happy we found it, don't get me wrong, but...it just makes everything too real. You didn't read what Madoc wrote, his grief was so deep, Frodo!" Frodo nodded and slipped an arm over Merry's shoulders, but privately Merry thought that Frodo still didn't really understand, not enough anyway.  
  
Between the three of them, they managed to carry all the thick diaries up from the deep cellar, presenting them to a delighted Bilbo who had also come to visit. Merry's mum welcomed them with hugs, but was not so forgiving as to allow them dessert. The warmth of his mother and the look in Bilbo's eyes when told about the diaries combined with the large dinner and wonderful storytelling (thanks again to Bilbo) to chase away the dark shadows from the deep, dank cellar even after Merry was in bed, soft moon- cast shadows dancing on his walls.  
  
He felt Pippin slip into his bed, unsurprised at his cousin. Many were the mornings when he awoke to find Pip cuddled into his side, and truth to tell, he rather liked it. Being an only child hadn't given him much of a chance to be the protector.  
  
"Merry, I wonder what Hanna looked like? And what she would have done if she had grown up." Pippin had wrapped his arms around Merry's chest, and though his voice was plaintive, it had lost the sadness and near-panic that the diary had brought about.  
  
"I don't know, Pip. So many people died in that plague, I wonder what would have become of them? I suppose we can't even guess, anymore." He stroked Pippin's hair softly, whispering in the little Took's ear.  
  
"Merry, will you keep reading to me from his diary? Only, maybe, skip the rest of the plague." Merry smiled and ruffled his cousin's hair.  
  
"Of course, Pip. D'you still want to search the cellars for gold, and foolish brides who hide in trunks? My mum told me you'll be staying for at least two more weeks." Merry grinned as he offered the news, having learned of it himself only just before bed. Pippin didn't disappoint in his reaction, squealing with joy and giving a little wriggle.  
  
"Yay! Oh, Merry, we'll have such adventures. Only," and his voice grew a little softer "I think I'd rather find gold than skeletons."  
  
Merry felt a little shiver at that, but held Pippin close and dismissed it. "I don't think we'll find either, Pip. But we will see, I suppose. Now go to sleep, or you'll be impossible to rouse tomorrow."  
  
"Will not," Pippin mumbled around a yawn, but was already near sleep when he murmured, "Good night, my Merry."  
  
Merry, too, was nearly asleep when he whispered "Good night, little one," before falling off into dreamless sleep. 


End file.
